In the Lonely Hour (I Need You)
by faith2727
Summary: D/E, post-6x06. Takes place directly after the end of the episode. Damon is underwhelmed after seeing Elena for the first time. He starts to wonder if he should've come home when a late-night phone call changes everything. No longer a one-shot. WARNING: Contains spoilers for the episode.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.  
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**Author's note: This one-shot was inspired by Sam Smith's beautiful song "In the Lonely Hour," hence the title. If you haven't heard it, it's definitely worth a listen. :)  
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**For this story, I'm assuming that Alaric erased _all_ of Elena's positive memories of Damon, not just the ones mentioned on the show.**

**Warning: Contains spoilers for 6x06.**

**Edited to fix the date. My bad. Thanks for catching that!**

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><p><em>I need someone that I'll look to<br>In the lonely hour, I need you_

Four months of being stuck on May 10, 1994 in a wash-rinse-repeat prison and all the love of his life could offer him when she saw him for the first time was small talk. Awkward small talk, at that. No hug. No kiss. No "I've missed you," or "I'm so glad you're back." No "I love you, Damon." _Ouch_.

Instead, Elena had spent most of her time avoiding him and jumping out of windows in the middle of the day on a crowded college campus just so she wouldn't have to come face to face with him. When she'd finally caved an hour or so ago, he'd had such high hopes for their meeting. Would she magically remember all the things Alaric had erased when their gazes locked? Nope. Oh, their eyes had connected, but hers hadn't held a shred of love or desire. Just curiosity and confusion. Loads. And maybe a slight hint of regret? Who the hell knows.

While he'd stood there in the doorway to her dorm room digging his hands into his pockets until the seams started to tear in an attempt to keep from reaching out and taking her into his arms, she'd studied him much the same way a scientist examines a specimen under a microscope. Clinical. He guessed it was fitting seeing as she was masquerading as a pre-med student these days. Her gaze ran over him, but it lacked the usual intensity. When she spoke at last, it was hesitant, unsure.

"I'm sorry about earlier. I just . . . um, I wasn't ready." She looked down at her feet and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"Yeah," he muttered, already hating the defeated tone of his voice. "Surprise," he added quietly.

From there, the conversation had limped along in fits and starts, never really going anywhere. How was college this semester? Good, good. Learning a lot and really enjoying the classes. What was it like where you were? Repetitive. Grungy. Plaid. Pancakes.

After half an hour of the mind-numbing madness of missing memories, Damon had bid her goodnight and slipped away, more frustrated than he'd ever been in his long life. After hitting the liquor store, he'd made his way to Alaric's place, intent on crashing there while his friend recuperated in the hospital under Jo's vigilant watch. Original vampire no more. _Damn_.

Entering the apartment and slamming the door closed behind him, he turned to glare at the slab of wood. He'd never thought of doors as sinister objects, but if today was any indication, they were more than capable of evil. Resisting the urge to tear the thing off its hinges and throw it through a wall (because Ric really wouldn't appreciate it and neither would the neighbors, probably), he shucked off his borrowed jacket and cracked open the bottle of bourbon he'd snagged from the store. Taking a few long pulls from the bottle, he kicked off his boots and settled himself on Ric's bed, his head falling back to knock against the wall.

Was it too late for take backs? Maybe chilling with Bonnie hadn't been so bad after all. Minus one crazy, jam-eating sociopath, they'd had an okay time. God, he really wished she was here now. She'd be able to lend an ear, maybe talk some sense into Elena, that kind of thing. _Jesus, Bon, couldn't you have let me come get you so we could've gone home together?_

Taking another swig of the heady liquid, he closed his eyes and let visions of happier times play out behind his lids. Times when Elena loved him. Saw a future with him. Etc., etc. His depressing walk down memory lane was interrupted by the buzz of his phone. Fishing it out of his pocket, he checked the display, rubbing his eyes to make sure what he was seeing was real. _Elena Gilbert_. Huh. Must be she'd thought of some other mundane thing to tell him.

Answering the call (because what did he have to lose?), he put the phone to his ear. "Hey," he greeted her softly.

"Hey." When the line went quiet, he thought maybe she'd changed her mind and hung up on him, but the sound of her breathing told him she was still there.

"Elena? You okay?" he asked uncertainly. _Or am I just gonna listen to you breathe for the rest of the night? Which is fine, I guess. Could be worse_.

"Sorry. I'm fine. Just couldn't sleep. I picked up the phone and yours was the first name that popped into my head. Almost like a reflex . . ." she trailed off.

He sat up, his interest piqued. "Really?"

"Yeah." She paused again, and he downed some more liquid courage. "So, listen. I was freaked out earlier, and I acted like an idiot. I think seeing you, being close to you, it was too much. I kinda blew a fuse." He chuckled at that. "I called you because . . . I have an idea."

He was definitely intrigued now. "What's that?"

Her voice was tiny but cautiously optimistic. "I was thinking that maybe you could tell me about a few of the good times we had. Y'know, the stuff Ric compelled me to forget."

_Whoa_. "Um, sure. Anything in particular?"

She cleared her throat. "Nothing too intense. Baby steps."

"No recaps of sexytimes, then?" He could practically feel the heat rising to her cheeks.

"Uh, no. Not just yet," she murmured.

_Yet?_ "Suit yourself. Hmm, let me think." He jogged his memory for something that fit the bill. Landing on one he thought might work, he took one last sip of bourbon before capping the bottle and setting it aside. He needed to have his wits about him if he was going to do this properly. Drunken storytelling would most certainly lead to NC-17 memories slipping past his lips. _There's this delicious sound you make when I bury my . . . . Shit. Focus, Damon_. "How about the time we went on a road trip to Atlanta?"

"Sounds good. When was that?" He couldn't help but smile at the genuine interest in her voice.

"A few years back. You were still a junior in high school. You'd been in a hell of an accident and I found you before some vampire got his fangs into you. You'd smacked your head pretty good, and you passed out after I pulled you from the vehicle. I wanted to keep an eye on you, so I tucked you in my car and hit the road."

"Um, that sounds like kidnapping," she said skeptically.

He laughed. "Yeah, you accused me of that back then, too. I was trying to ruffle Stefan's feathers, but my intentions weren't completely shady. I never compelled you during the trip. I wanted it to be real," he swallowed thickly as he echoed the words he'd said to her all those years ago.

"Go on." Relieved that she hadn't shut him down, he released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"We went to a bar that belonged to a friend of mine. You needed a break from the drama, so we indulged in burgers and fries, and I learned about your unnatural aversion to pickles. We drank some beers, which turned into shots with everyone at the bar later that night. I think I was actually more trashed than you were."

The giggle that escaped her was music to his ears. "I had a bit of a rebellious streak when I was younger, so I'd been building up my tolerance for a while."

"Apparently so," he agreed. "Anyway, it was all fun and games until I realized that my friend wasn't a friend anymore, and she was working with a vampire in order to kill me. Not that I didn't deserve it," he said ruefully, thinking of Lexi.

"What happened?" Her tone suggested that she was completely drawn in by what he was telling her.

"The vampire took you in order to draw me out. When I found the two of you, he beat the ever-loving hell out of me with a baseball bat before dousing me in gasoline. He was about to turn me into a vamp fireball when you begged him not to do it." Her heartfelt plea was as fresh in his mind as it had been that night in the alley. _Please, don't hurt him_. He continued, speaking softly. "You saved my life. Even though you knew that I was far from being a saint, you still chose to help me."

Silence filled the virtual space between them. As he pulled at a loose thread on his jeans, he knew he'd pay a ridiculous amount of money to get a glimpse of what was going through her head right now. Disgust at aiding someone who'd killed his brother's best friend? Relief that she'd never have to experience these memories again? Or maybe, just maybe, an inkling that he wasn't a complete monster? His internal debate was interrupted when she spoke, ending his torment.

"Thank you for telling me that. It helps. I'm glad we were . . . friends," she finished tentatively.

_Friends?_ He eyed the bottle on the nightstand. He sincerely hoped Alaric had more stashed somewhere because clearly one wasn't going to cut it. "Yeah, me, too," he replied lamely. "Listen, I better go." _I have a date with alcohol-induced unconsciousness_. "G'night, 'Lena."

His finger was hovering over the "end" button when her panicked response reached his ears. "Damon, wait!"

"Hmm?"

"Can we talk again tomorrow? Maybe go through a few more memories?" Caught off guard by her request, he was momentarily speechless. Fortunately, what she tacked on next sealed the deal. "Please?"

_How the hell can I refuse?_ "Uh, yeah. Sure. Just call whenever you're ready."

"Good." Was he imagining things, or was that a hint of relief in her voice? "I'll talk to you then. Night, Damon."

"Night." When the line went dead, he slid his phone back into his pocket. They still had a long road ahead of them, no doubt, but at least this was something. He could work with this, build on it. He would remind his girl how much he loved her. He would help her remember how much she loved him, too.

For now, it was enough just to know that she still needed him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.  
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**Author's note: Thanks so much for all the feedback! This week's episode was just heartbreaking enough to make me want to continue this story. I'll try to stretch it out to four or five chapters if you're interested. :)  
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><p><em>I don't need suggestions of how to start anew<br>In the lonely hour, I need you_

_Buzz_.

_Buzz_.

_Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz_.

Damon was dragged out of blissful oblivion by the most annoying sound in the world. Wait. Second most annoying, he corrected himself, remembering Kai crunching his way through a bag of pork rinds.

Refusing to open his eyes, he shot out a hand and fumbled around on the nightstand for the source of the disturbance. Sending an empty bottle crashing to the floor (oops, make that two), his fingers continued their clumsy trek. When number three went over the edge with a wet slosh—_Damn. What a waste_—he made a mental note to clean up his mess once the fog in his head cleared.

He finally located the vibrating nuisance and put it to his ear. "'Lo?" he rasped, sounding like he'd just finished gargling with vervain mouthwash.

"Damon? What's wrong?" As Elena's voice shocked him the rest of the way into consciousness, he sat up too quickly, smacking his head on the edge of the shelf above Alaric's bed.

Letting out a string of curses that would make a pirate blush, he ran a hand over his face. Feeling something stuck to his cheek, he peeled off whatever it was and held it up to the light. What he discovered was a Post-it note with his handwriting scrawled on it in splotchy black ink: _Don't forget to tell Elena about the time you_—unfortunately, he couldn't make out the rest.

Huh. Apparently, Drunk Damon was considerate enough to leave reminders for Hungover Damon to follow up on. Too bad his drunk self had shitty penmanship.

"Damon! What the hell's going on? Are you okay?" He could tell Elena was nearing panic mode, so he wracked his bourbon-soaked brain for an appropriate response.

_Peachy keen. Right as . . . never mind. Better leave rain out of it for now. Well, let's see. I was just drooling on my best friend's pillow, sleeping off the obscene amount of alcohol I consumed last night. You?_ Deciding to shelve the sarcasm, he cleared his throat and put her mind at ease. Or tried, at any rate. "Hey. I'm fine. Just had kind of a . . . rough night."

"Sounds like it. I'm glad you're alright." Pausing like she'd just realized what she'd said, she quickly forged ahead, the words coming out in a rush. "Can we still get together today?"

_Get together?_ He'd assumed they would only be doing this over the phone since she'd been so wigged out when she saw him yesterday. Had she changed her mind? "Absolutely. What time?"

"My last class gets out at 2:30. Can you meet me on campus? There's a quiet spot where we can talk." The note of hopefulness in her voice was impossible to ignore.

"I'll be there."

"Great. See you then."

When the call disconnected, he tossed the phone on the bed and looked down at the disheveled clothing he'd slept in. He needed blood, coffee, a shower, a shave, and a fresh change of clothes, in that order. Or maybe he'd skip the shave? Elena had always liked it when he was a bit scruffy.

Smiling to himself, he headed for the fridge and snagged a bag of O positive, counting on the vital sustenance to wipe the rest of the cobwebs from his mind and help him choose which memories he would share with Elena next.

###

The place she'd picked out for their meeting was surprisingly perfect. Damon had been expecting it to be someplace relatively crowded where she wouldn't have to be alone with him. A bar or a restaurant, maybe. As it turned out, she'd had quite the opposite in mind, Damon noted as he surveyed the park-like area at the forest's edge. There were a few wooden benches scattered about and a paved walkway running through it, but as far as he could tell, there was no one else here.

Spotting Elena sitting on a bench by a tall maple tree, he approached slowly, not wanting to spook her, especially given the reaction she'd had to him last night. Purposely crunching leaves and twigs beneath his boots, he made his way over to her. She looked up when he finally reached her, and he realized she had been reading something—a slim volume with a leather cover. A diary? Given the speed with which she stuffed it into her purse, he guessed it wasn't intended for his eyes. Still, he couldn't resist teasing her a bit. "Doing a little light reading? Not getting enough assignments in your classes?"

"Aren't you funny," she said wryly. "Actually, I was trying to jog my memory, but it's not working. Besides, these entries are only from the time when we were together." She patted her bag, indicating the hidden book. "It doesn't cover the stuff that came before, like the one you told me about yesterday."

_Hmm, interesting_. He plopped down next to her on the bench, stretching his arm out along the back of it, mostly to see how she'd respond. When she didn't scoot away, he took that as a good sign. "So, what else do you want to know?"

She picked up a leaf and spun it around by the stem. "I decided on the place. You choose the memory."

"Oookay." Feeling bold, he opted for something more personal, more . . . intimate without pushing her too far too fast. "How about the first time we kissed?"

"Our first kiss?" Elena asked, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "What was it like?"

"Gross, come to think of it," Damon admitted.

"Excuse me?"

He chuckled at the offended look she gave him. "Sorry. This is the part where I say 'It's not you, it's me.' I was about to meet my maker after Tyler the Wolf Boy bit me, and I was all sweaty and delirious. You ignored the state I was in and gave me the sweetest kiss. Told me you'd stay with me until the end. If it wasn't for the agony, I'd have thought I'd already died and gone to Heaven." Unable to stop himself, he reached out and took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. "I don't consider that our real first kiss though, seeing as I wasn't much of a participant."

"Which one, then?" Her voice was quiet and a bit rough around the edges.

He closed his eyes and returned to the night on Elena's front porch after her brother had embraced his inner Rambo and Damon had compelled him to leave the insanely dangerous Mystic Falls behind and never think of it again. When he reopened them, Elena was staring at him intently as if she were impatient for him to begin. "You'd had a bad day. Understatement, I know. Klaus was gunning for Jeremy, Ric got mowed down by a hybrid that your brother later beheaded right in front of you, and you learned that Stefan was being shady, but for a good reason. After I'd reset Jer's compass so that it was pointing toward Denver, we had a little discussion on your porch.

"I was trying to be the 'better man'—your words, not mine—but all I could think about was how much I wanted to kiss you. I knew I shouldn't because of Stefan-related reasons, but in the end I couldn't help it . . ." he trailed off, replaying snippets of their conversation in his head.

_. . . 'Cause I thought, for one second, that I wouldn't have to feel guilty anymore_.

_Wait, what are you talking about? Guilty for what?_

_For wanting what I want_.

"I started to leave, but then I changed my mind, marched back up the steps, and . . . kissed you." Damon's gaze landed on Elena lips, which were parted ever so slightly, and he forced himself to look anywhere but at her mouth. "Sorry. Words don't really do it justice. I guess you had to be there," he added softly. _Oh, the irony_. Pulling his trusty flask from his jacket pocket, he took a swig while he waited for Elena to process what he'd told her.

"Show me."

He choked on the bourbon, coughing and spluttering as he got to his feet and turned away so he wouldn't spit it all over her. Finally recovered, he spun around and faced her once more. "What did you just say?"

She stood and walked toward him. "You heard me. You said yourself that words alone couldn't give me the whole picture, so show me." Stopping mere inches from him, she looked up at him expectantly.

"Are you sure? You nearly short-circuited yesterday, and I wasn't even touching you. What do you think is gonna happen if I do this?"

"I don't know, but I'm willing to find out."

"What about 'baby steps'?"

"Reading about our relationship—the highs and the lows—made me realize that I don't want to go slow. I want my memories back now. Every day without them is a day wasted when I could've been—" She cut herself off, and he desperately wanted to know what she had been planning to say. _What? Loving me?_ "Just kiss me. Please."

He searched her eyes for any hint of doubt but found none. _Well, here goes_. Tucking his hands under her hair, he placed them on either side of her throat, his thumbs brushing over her jaw. Leaning in, he covered her mouth with his. The kiss was unhurried, gentle, just as it had been the first time, and history continued to repeat itself when she lifted one of her hands to grip his. What was different was the low moan that escaped her, one he could feel beneath his palms where they were resting on her neck.

When he finally pulled back, he drank in her dazed expression, a near mirror image of her original reaction. Instead of saying goodnight (it was only the middle of the afternoon, after all) and walking away like he had before, he stayed put, his fingers caressing her soft skin. "How was that?"

"Good," she whispered, seemingly unaware that she was leaning into his touch. "Well, better than good, obviously. And I felt something. It was almost like déjà vu, only more intense."

"I like the sound of that," he murmured in approval.

"Maybe that's the key," she said excitedly, her features lighting up. "Not just hearing or reading about the memories but reliving them, _feeling_ them."

"I can get on board with that plan." He smiled at her, his mind already whirring with the possibilities.

This show-and-tell business was going to make their little trip down memory lane so much more enjoyable.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.  
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**Author's note: Thanks again for all the reviews, faves, and follows. It really means a lot. :)  
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><p><em>These other voices, they don't cut through<br>In the lonely hour, I need you_

"Yep, you got it," Damon confirmed as his favorite—scratch that, only—drinking buddy repeated his detailed instructions back to him. "Make sure it's against the wall." He paused, listening to Alaric's smart-ass comment on the other end. "Yeah, yeah. 'That's what she said.' It's a good thing there are a lot of miles between us right now because I'd be tempted to drain what's left of your precious bourbon collection for that one. Still might." Ric fired back some choice words of his own, making Damon chuckle. "Fine. I'll behave. Maybe," he added under his breath. "So, you think you can handle this, Nutty Professor?"

When Alaric agreed to take care of things on the condition that Damon never call him that again, they said goodbye to each other, and Damon returned his attention to the task at hand and the reason why he was currently strolling through the aisles in a high-end dress shop in Richmond. Under normal circumstances, this would not be his idea of a good time, but this was important. Too important to pass off to anyone else.

Damon Salvatore, personal stylist. Stranger things had happened, he supposed.

As his fingers sifted through rack after rack of silk, satin, and lace in every color imaginable, he was determined to find the best dress for the evening he was planning, the next stop on the tour of memories he and Elena had embarked upon. Sadly, the _perfect_ dress wasn't an option since that one had been turned into ash when Elena pulled her pyro stunt a few years ago.

Just as a flash of blue fabric caught his eye, his phone chose that moment to start buzzing away in his back pocket. Thinking it was probably Ric with more questions about the assignment Damon had given him, he didn't bother with the usual pleasantries. "What now?" he snarled, his patience running on empty.

"Hello to you, too. Someone's grouchy."

Yeeeah. Definitely not Alaric, unless his best friend could do a spot-on impression of a woman's voice. A Gilbert woman, no less. "Shit, Elena. Sorry. I thought it was Ric calling me back."

"That's okay," she laughed. "Where are you, anyway? We were supposed to meet up and talk some more."

_Eager, are we?_ Smiling to himself, he pulled the blue dress off the rack and examined it. It was slightly different; strapless instead of having crisscrossing straps in the back, but the color was an exact match. A quick check of the tag revealed that it was Elena's size. _Bingo_. "Change of plans. How about a date tomorrow night?"

"A date? Does it have to do with a specific memory?" she asked, anticipation evident in her voice.

"Mmhmm. I'm not sure about the _where_ part yet, but I'll let you know when I am. Unfortunately, the place where it originally happened is in Mystic Falls, so that's out." _Damn Travelers_.

"Okay, I'm in. What should I wear?"

"I've got it covered. You can change when you get there. Just bring you. All I need is you," he finished quietly.

"Damon . . ."

"Yeah?" It was ridiculous how much he enjoyed the way she said his name.

"Thank you for not giving up on me. For helping me try to remember. I might not be able to recall the 'how's or 'why's of our relationship yet, but I won't give up on this—on us—either," she said, her determination making him grin.

"Any time." When he noticed a saleswoman approaching, he held up a finger, not wanting her to say something that would give Elena a clue about what he was up to. "Listen, I have to go for now, but I'll see you tomorrow night. I'll text you the address. How does 8 o'clock sound?"

"Perfect. I'll be there, wherever 'there' is."

"Good." He said goodbye and handed over the dress and his credit card to the hovering woman. His mind was spinning with everything he needed to do before his date with Elena. He wanted it to be just right, and he'd be damned if he settled for anything less.

###

As Damon buttoned his suit jacket and gave himself one last onceover in the full-length mirror, he had to admit that Alaric had done an excellent job of finding the ideal spot for this evening. When the clock announced the hour, he counted off each chime to himself until the eighth one rang out and it was quiet once more. Leaving the guest room, he made his way through the foyer and took his place at the bottom of the grand staircase. _Nice one, Ric. Stairs against the wall, just like I specified_. If Elena had found his notes, she should be ready right about . . . now.

As if on cue, she appeared at the top of the stairs, a vision in the sapphire blue gown he'd chosen. Her eyes locked on his and he held his breath as she slowly descended, scenes from the Miss Mystic Falls pageant (versions 1.0 and 2.0, but mostly 1.0) replaying in his head. When she reached the bottom, he offered her his hand and she accepted, his fingers curling around hers in a gentle grip.

Neither said a word as he led her through the impressive house, her heels clicking on the polished floors. It wasn't the Lockwood mansion, but it was a suitable replacement. Entering the ballroom (because it was way too cold outside for dancing), he heard her gasp as she caught sight of the enormous crystal chandelier and the fire crackling away in the hearth.

"This is amazing," she breathed. "How did you find this place?"

"With a little help from my friend, the local history buff. I believe you know him as Professor Saltzman," he explained with a smirk. "I stopped by earlier to suggest to the owners that they go on an impromptu weekend getaway."

Elena looked up at him with a shy smile. "So it's just us?"

He gave her hand a squeeze. "Just us." They came to a stop in the center of the room, and he took a step back, reluctantly letting go of her. "Remember how to do this?"

"Of course. Mrs. Lockwood wouldn't let us forget about 'the simple intimacy of the near touch,'" she giggled as they bowed to one another.

Straightening, they raised their hands, careful to keep them far enough apart. As they slowly circled each other, Elena's eyes never left his. "My memory of this is so different. Stefan abandoned me, and you weren't . . . there. It was mortifying. I had to dance with one of the stand-ins," she frowned, her brow furrowing.

The "near touch" part of the dance complete, Damon pulled her close and she settled a hand on his shoulder. "That's just what Alaric compelled you to think. Here's what really happened: picture the two of us surrounded by a circle of Founding Family members while Alaric and Jenna watched in horror as the 'bad brother' came to your rescue."

"I think—" she paused, briefly ducking her head.

"What is it?"

She glanced back up at him, her cheeks an alluring shade of pink. "I think I like this version better already; the two of us with no audience."

"It was like that for me the first time," he murmured. "Everything and everyone else faded away. All I saw was you."

They continued to waltz across the floor, the snapping and popping of the flames and the swish of Elena's dress the only sounds in the room. Damon was pretty damn sure he'd be happy to stay like this forever, holding the woman he loved and listening to the beat of her heart.

He thought back to the pageant and the way she had been so unsure when she'd taken his hand at the base of those stairs. They'd both been preoccupied, each of them wondering what havoc his "blood junkie" brother would cause, but in the end, she'd trusted him and followed his lead, no pun intended.

_What are we gonna do?_

_Right now, we just have to get through this._

His reverie was interrupted when Elena gasped and grabbed his shoulder, her steps faltering. "Elena! What's wrong?"

She squeezed her eyes shut as if whatever was happening required her full concentration. Unfortunately, the silence was driving him crazy. "Hey. Talk to me," he said, rubbing her arms soothingly.

Her lids finally flickered open, and she gave him a dazed look. "I saw something," she whispered.

"What did you see?" he asked, his own heart thundering at the possibilities.

"It was only a flash, but I saw you and me. Dancing. Just like you described." Her fingers bunched in the soft fabric of the dress he'd picked out for her to wear. "It's the same color."

_Holy. Shit_. "You're remembering."

She nodded. "It's working. We need to keep going," she said, excitement written on her features. "Can you show me more?"

"Well, that's pretty much it for this one. We had a bit of a mini moment later that night after you went all Buffy and vervained Stefan, but I highly doubt that sitting on our asses next to a prison cell in a damp, gloomy basement is going to stir up much of anything," he admitted.

"A different one, then?" Maybe—" He cut her off with a kiss, his lips brushing over hers. Feeling a tug on his lapel, he realized Elena was gripping his jacket. When he pulled back, he didn't miss the disappointment that registered on her face.

"Easy there. We'll go through as many memories as it takes, but I think it's probably best to do it one at a time. Don't want to push our luck." When she stared at him with wide eyes, he held up his hands. "Shocking, I know. Damon Salvatore wants to go _slow_." He spat out the last word like it had a particularly vile taste to it.

"No, it's fine. You're right." She straightened his tie and smiled at his look of surprise. "Besides, I'm enjoying this. I don't mind waiting a little longer."

He'd never dreamed it could be possible, but he found himself nodding in agreement. Reliving their memories was turning out to be nearly as fun as making them in the first place.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.  
><strong>

**Author's note: Thank you so much for all the great feedback. I really appreciate it! :)  
><strong>

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><p><em>I need someone that I'll look to<br>In the lonely hour that we all go through_

"So, we're flying?"

"Yep."

"Where to, exactly?"

"You'll see." Giving Elena his best Cheshire Cat-grin, Damon laced his fingers behind his head and settled even deeper into her surprisingly comfortable bed. Letting his eyes skip around the room, he had to hand it to Whitmore. He'd been on his fair share of college campuses, but none of them had boasted dorm rooms like this. A fireplace? They were lucky some tipsy undergrad hadn't burned the place to the ground. Elena had almost done it herself just last year . . .

_Yeah. Moving on_.

"Okay, Mr. Cryptic. What should I pack?" she asked, scowling at his booted feet where they rested on top of her bedspread. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all." He chuckled, ignoring the exasperated look she gave him. "Bring something warm. It's pretty chilly there this time of year."

Instead of digging through her dresser for sweaters and long sleeve shirts, she sidled up to the bed and poked him in the side. "You think you're so tough, but I happen to know that you have a ticklish spot right . . . about . . . here." Her fingers skimmed over his ribcage until she landed on the area in question. "So you'd better behave," she finished with a laugh.

His hand shot out and grabbed hers, and he sat up in a blur of movement. "Wait, you remember that?"

"Yeah, I do," she murmured as if she were trying to recall exactly when that piece of information had popped into her head. "That's a good thing, right?"

"A very good thing," he agreed, hopping off the bed and tugging her toward the closet. "Grab your coat. We can celebrate later. If we don't get our asses in gear, we're gonna miss our flight."

"Bossy."

"You know it."

"How long are we going to be gone?"

Damon opened a drawer and began tossing clothes in a suitcase. "A few days. Have to take advantage of your Thanksgiving break, y'know."

Coming up beside him with her coat draped over her arm, Elena peered into the bag. "Um, wherever we're going, I don't think I'll need that many thongs," she commented dryly.

"My bad." He gave her his signature smirk, his tone completely unapologetic. "Old habits and all that."

"I'm sure," she said, bumping him out of the way with her hip and returning a few handfuls of lacy underwear to the drawer. "I'll take over the packing, thank you very much."

He held up his hands in a show of surrender. "Suit yourself. I was just trying to help."

"Sure you were." He could tell she was trying to fight back a smile, but in the end, she failed miserably. "So, do I need to bring anything special? A dress, or . . ."

"Nope. Nothing fancy required this time."

"Okay." He watched in dismay as she added several more non-lingerie items to the suitcase and zipped it shut. "All set."

"Great. I'll get the car and bring it around. See you outside in ten?"

"Yeah. Think you can manage to stay out of trouble for that long?" she teased.

"Watch it. I'm not the only one with a ticklish spot," he threatened, stalking over to her.

"You wouldn't dare."

"That's where you're wrong, sweetheart." He spun her around so that her back was pressed against his chest. As his fingers danced over her sides, she screeched and tried to wriggle out of his grasp. It was a good thing everyone else had already left for their holiday vacation or he was sure they would've come running thinking someone was being murdered.

When he finally ceased the torment, she was flushed and breathless. "Not fair," she said, panting softly.

"You got off easy," he grinned. "Anyway, if you're done lollygagging, we have a plane to catch." Satisfied with himself, he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

"Payback's a bitch, Salvatore!" she yelled at his retreating back.

"Promises, promises," he called over his shoulder.

###

"Denver?"

"Denver. You know, the Mile High City? Also Jeremy's home away from home." Damon continued to rattle off other things associated with the city until their waitress appeared with the food. As two orders of burgers and fries were placed on the table in front of them, he realized that this was becoming a road trip tradition.

Elena picked up a fry and popped it in her mouth. "I remember coming here to get Jeremy when we needed his help in order to find out who sired Rose. It didn't end well. I can't imagine something good came out of such an epic fail."

"Oh, it did. You'll see." Noticing her giving her pickle the side-eye, he snatched it off her plate. "Give me that."

"Really? Even with all the trouble Kol caused?" she asked.

"In between Kol's stunts, actually. And what the hell is it with people going after me with baseball bats?"

She shrugged, laughing between bites of her burger. "Who knows? At least we don't have to worry about that asshole anymore."

"True." Damon picked up his own burger and took a big bite, savoring the flavor. Blood was always tops, but sometimes he craved normal food. He had Katherine to thank for that habit. She'd had an appreciation for the finer things in life, filet mignon and caviar included. "So, are you ready to get your 'Rocky Mountain High' on? We could check out the local shops, or go to a club—"

"Actually, I think the jet lag is catching up to me," she interrupted with a yawn. "Would you mind if we just went back to the motel and watched a movie or some bad reality TV and saved the sightseeing for tomorrow?"

_Welp_. Draining the rest of his beer, Damon contemplated calling the waitress over and ordering a bottle of bourbon (or a case) to go. "Uh, sure. No problem." Big problem. Huge, even.

After he'd paid the check, he ushered Elena toward the door and tried to figure out how he was going to show her this particular memory without making them both go up in flames. Launching into a mental pep talk, he reminded himself that this was his awesome idea.

Now he just had to make sure that it wasn't a poorly executed one.

###

Back in their motel room, Elena was engrossed in _Bridesmaids_ and Damon was staring at the ceiling, counting the tiles overhead. His task was interrupted when a pillow landed on his face.

"Hey. You're awfully quiet. Something bothering you?"

"Other than the pillow you lobbed at me?" he quipped, his response muffled. Plucking it off, he tossed it back at her. "No, nothing in particular."

"Liar." Getting up, she walked over and plunked herself on the edge of the other double bed, the one Damon was currently occupying. "So, when are you going to show me the next memory?"

"Well, it started pretty much like this, but our positions are kind of reversed. You were pretending to sleep, but then I caught you ogling me, so I came over and joined you." He scooched over and she took the hint, stretching out beside him. "You wanted to know why I didn't let people see the good in me, and I told you it was because I wasn't interested in having to live up to anyone's expectations." Damon slid his hand over hers, their fingers tangling together. "This is the part where you got all flustered and darted out of the room."

Giving him a small smile, Elena released his hand and got to her feet. With one last look in his direction, she opened the door and slipped outside. Damon waited a few moments before following her. When he stepped out on the walkway, a cold gust of wind ruffled his hair and made him wish it was July instead of late November. Spotting Elena by the infamous ice machine, he walked slowly toward her. Hearing him approach, she turned to face him.

"What now?" she asked, pulling her sweater tighter around her.

"You took matters into your own hands at this point," he admitted.

"Hmm. Is that so?" She studied him for a minute, the corners of her mouth turning down in a frown. "Something's not right."

"What do you mean?" He moved closer, his voice edged with concern.

She smoothed her hands down the front of his shirt, her nimble fingers undoing buttons as she went. When the last one had been freed, she parted the fabric, and Damon sucked in a breath at the feel of the brisk air on his skin coupled with Elena's soft touch. "There. Much better."

"Why did you do that?" he whispered.

"Because that's how it was the first time," she murmured. "Then I did this." Closing the remaining space between them, she captured his mouth, her lips colliding with his. A growl rumbled out of Damon's throat and he let her have her way for a few seconds before walking her backward until she bumped into the pillar. She opened to him, and he took full advantage, his tongue caressing hers and skimming over her teeth, two of which were sporting extra sharp tips.

Breaking the kiss, he dropped his mouth to her collarbone and worked his way up her neck, pausing occasionally to lick and nip any particularly sensitive spots. A tug on his hair made him smile, and he stopped long enough to gauge Elena's reaction. Her eyes were dilated, only a thin ring of brown showing around the enlarged pupils, and her breathing was uneven. He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, which was slightly swollen.

Apparently, she didn't appreciate the brief respite. Huffing impatiently, she curled a hand around the back of his neck and returned his mouth to hers.

When she lifted her leg and hooked it behind his, Damon realized he'd been effectively caught in a trap of his own making. Reluctantly pulling back, he rested his forehead against hers. "No little brother to interrupt us this time."

"Works for me."

"Sneaky move with the shirt. When did you get the memory back?"

"While I was lying there watching the movie. I looked over at you, and just like that"—she snapped her fingers for emphasis—"I saw the whole thing."

"And you still let me walk you through it, up to and including my bare chest. In case you haven't noticed, it's cold as hell out here."

"I don't think you really mind," she said. "Besides, you had it coming. Payback, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah." Not giving her a chance to gloat further, he leaned in and picked up where they'd left off. He was thrilled that the plan was working; Elena's memories were trickling in, and he knew it wouldn't be long before the dam broke and the rest of them came flooding back. He just hoped he had enough self-control to last him until they did.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.  
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**Author's note: Happy New Year, everyone! Sorry for the delay in updating this one. The holiday season has been hectic, to say the least. Well, here 'tis: the final chapter. I really enjoyed writing this story, and I hope you like the ending. Thanks to all for reading and commenting! :)  
><strong>

* * *

><p><em>To give me comfort and love me through<br>In the lonely hour, I need you_

It was beyond time to get the spell lifted from Mystic Falls, Damon mused. He was tired of crashing at Alaric's. He missed his house. He missed his bed. He missed his booze.

Plus, so many of the memories he'd created with Elena had happened there. It was his home. _Their_ home.

Elena chose that moment to flop down on the bed beside him, momentarily distracting him from his depressing thoughts. Since they'd come back from Denver, she'd remembered a few more bits and pieces but nothing substantial. Even though she hid it well, he could tell she was getting frustrated.

"Well, this is a fun way to spend a Friday night," she sighed.

"If we keep hanging out here, Ric's going to charge us rent." Grabbing his glass off the nightstand, he tossed back the rest of his bourbon, letting it warm him from the inside out.

"I don't think he minds. He's gotten pretty cozy with Jo lately. Plus, it's better than the dorm. At least we get a little peace and quiet here," she pointed out. Shifting onto her side, she reached out and combed her fingers through his hair. "I've made such a mess. If I could take it back, I would. In a heartbeat."

Catching her hand, he brought it to his mouth and pressed a kiss into her palm. "We'll fix it."

"How? We've been working on it for weeks now and I've only gotten back a handful of memories."

"Something's better than nothing," he said, taking the glass-is-half-full approach for once. "We can always build on those. Or make new ones, which we've already been doing, by the way."

"I know, but I want the originals back. Maybe if I step over the border again—"

He immediately shot down her ridiculously dangerous idea. "No. Absolutely not. The border's out. You're not risking your life for this."

"Dammit. I wish Klaus or Elijah could just compel me to remember again." She fell back on the bed and ran a hand over her face.

"That would be super, but it doesn't work that way, babe."

"I know." Turning to look at him, she continued in a quieter voice. "Can we keep trying?"

"I'm running out of things to show you that don't involve me dying, or coming damn close to it, or . . ." he trailed off, deciding not to elaborate further and hoping Elena wouldn't notice.

"Or what?" she asked, lifting a brow.

Right. He should've known better. "Making love to you," he admitted.

She sucked in a breath, her wide eyes searching his. "You wouldn't want to . . .?"

He groaned at her implication. "Jesus, Elena. It's not that. Not even close. Were you there in Denver? It was all I could do not to carry you back to that hotel room and have my way with you until one or both of us forgot our own names."

She smiled at his honesty. "So what's stopping you?"

He squeezed his eyes shut but forced the words out anyway. "Without all of your memories, it would feel . . . wrong somehow."

Her face fell, but she quickly recovered. "No, I understand. You're right."

_Shit_. The mixture of sadness and disappointment written on her features was like a stake to the heart. He couldn't give up now. There had to be something . . .

Getting to his feet, he went over to Alaric's dresser and started rummaging through the drawer he'd claimed as his own that contained the few pieces of clothing he'd acquired since returning to the present. Finding the jeans he'd been wearing when Bonnie sent him back from 90s-ville, he rifled through them until his fingers closed around the object he needed.

Covertly slipping it into his pocket, he turned to find Elena watching him closely. "What are you doing?"

"Show-and-tell time. You up for it?"

"Definitely."

Scoping out Ric's apartment, Damon located the biggest mirror he could find (outside of the bathroom because that would just be weird). Taking Elena's hand, he led her over and positioned her directly in front of it. Stepping behind her, he met her eyes in the glass and smiled.

"Pretend we're in Stefan's bedroom instead of Alaric's loft, and this is what we were doing on the night of your 18th birthday just before we went down to the rave—uh, party, I mean—that Caroline had so lovingly planned. You were hiding out in Stef's room and soaking up all the broody vibes when I found you. Contrary to what you might think, I didn't give you a hard time about it. Just the opposite, in fact."

_Don't worry. I'm not gonna lose it, at least not before the cake_.

_It's your party. You can cry if you want to_.

"I brought you a present, which you briefly accused me of stealing, and it ended up being this." Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the necklace and held it up for her to see.

She studied the piece of jewelry, her eyes narrowing. "That's Esther's talisman, the necklace Stefan gave to me shortly after we met."

"Yeah, to protect you from me," he grumbled. "Anyway, because it meant so much to you back then and helped you feel connected to my brother while he was MIA, I knew it was the most meaningful gift I could give you. When you asked me to do the honors"—he unclasped the chain and held it in front of her—"I couldn't resist."

As the metal of the pendant touched Elena's skin, she locked gazes with Damon in the mirror. Before she could blink, she was bombarded with images, many accompanied by snippets of things she'd said. Things Damon had said. A connection right from the very beginning. Confessions of love. Promises for the future . . .

A chance meeting with a handsome stranger.

_ You want a love that consumes you. You want passion and adventure and even a little danger._

An impulsive man she was drawn to even though she knew she was playing with fire.

_You and I, we have something._

A selfless admission unexpectedly revealed.

_I just have to say it once. You just need to hear it. I love you, Elena._

A vow given out of fear for her life and a refusal to lose her.

_I will always choose you._

An act of forgiveness as Damon lay dying.

_I like you now, just the way you are._

A first kiss shared despite the consequences.

_If I'm gonna feel guilty about something, I'm gonna feel guilty about this_.

Acceptance of the person she'd become when others had turned away.

_I don't think I've ever seen you more alive._

A belief in the feelings they shared despite the unfortunate circumstances.

_It's the most real thing that I've ever felt in my entire life._

A revelation given with a clear head and a knowing heart.

_I am not sorry that I'm in love with you._

A missed opportunity turned into a romantic, rain-soaked evening.

_Promise me this is forever.  
><em> _I promise._

A promise that nothing would come between them, no matter what fate had planned.

_You are my life._

A chance for a life together.

_Do you see a future with me? Because that's _all_ I see._

When the barrage of memories came to an end, Elena blinked a few times to clear her fuzzy vision and found Damon staring down at her where she was sprawled out on Alaric's bed, worry rolling off him in waves. His hand caressed her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. "Are you okay?"

She took a moment to assess things. Nothing hurt, although her head was still spinning a little. Her thoughts were clear. Her memories were . . . complete. No more gaps or missing information. No more fake remembrances covering up real ones.

Lurching up off the bed, she flung her arms around Damon's neck and squeezed until she was sure she was on the verge of choking him. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her sight once more. "Better than okay," she half sobbed. "They're back, Damon. I remember everything." With a watery laugh, she yanked him back down with her, and he landed beside her on the duvet with a surprised "oof."

Before he had a chance to react, she slid on top of him, her knees framing his hips as she leaned down to claim his lips in a searing kiss. Every few minutes, she'd pull back and take a breath, words spilling out of her that she repeated on a loop until they became a kind of mantra. "I love you. I'm so sorry I hurt you. Please forgive me."

Damon did his best to keep up with the onslaught, finally rolling them over and pinning her beneath him. "Easy there, sweetheart. I'd almost forgotten how enthusiastic you get." When her smile turned into a pout, he caught her bottom lip between his teeth and gave it a tug. "Of course I forgive you, Elena. I'm just glad you're back. _All_ of you."

Picking up where they'd left off, she continued to demonstrate just how _enthusiastic_ she could be, her tongue tangling with his until they were both moaning in delight. When she hooked her leg around his hips and pressed herself against him, he broke the kiss with a growl. He dropped his head into the crook of her neck, his breath warming her already heated skin. She sifted her fingers through his hair as she wondered what the time out was all about. "What's wrong?" she asked.

He chuckled before raising up to gaze at her with a look of regret. "This may come as a surprise, but I do draw the line at certain things, and getting hot and heavy with you on my best friend's bed is one of them."

She laughed loud and long, the sound echoing off the walls and filling the room. Wiping her eyes once the last giggle had subsided, she rolled her hips just to see what kind of a response she'd get. He didn't disappoint.

"Stop that," he hissed, clamping a fang onto her earlobe before soothing the sting with his tongue.

"Well, I guess we'd better take this elsewhere then. Any ideas?"

"A few." Reluctantly pulling away from her and dragging himself off the bed, he held out a hand to help her up. "Shall we?"

She took what was offered, stumbling a bit when she got to her feet until Damon steadied her. "Just a second. There's something I need to tell you."

"Hmm?"

She ran her hands up his arms and across his shoulders until they were resting on either side of his neck. "That memory from the night of my birthday," she began, "was the key to everything. Before Alaric could compel me, he said he had to find what he called the 'signature memory,' one that would impact all the others, domino-style, once it was altered. Turns out that was the one."

"And what made that particular memory so special?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. "We weren't even together then."

Smiling up at him, she let the truth wash over her, as powerful now as it'd ever been. "Because that was the first time I knew I loved you," she murmured.

Damon's mouth opened and closed a few times before he spoke, and even then, all that came out was a whisper. "What?"

"Giving me back the necklace when you could've just as easily tossed it in the quarry. What I felt for you in that moment was love, pure and simple. For someone who keeps claiming to be selfish, you're pretty selfless, you know that?"

He started to shake his head, but she stopped him, her hands moving up to cup his face. "No, don't try to deny it. When you found out I'd had all the good memories of you erased from my mind, you didn't fly into a rage or kick me to the curb. Instead, you helped me and you refused to give up. You even forgave me after all the pain I'd caused you, and for that, Damon Salvatore, I will love you forever."

He was silent for a while, his expression one of awe. Finally, he snapped out of his daze and enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug. "Forever sounds damn good to me. I'll take it. And ditto, by the way," he added softly.

When he released her, she caught both of his hands in hers. "How about we make a few more new memories tonight?" she asked, the gleam in her eyes impossible to ignore.

"I'm _all_ for it," he agreed, leading her toward the door. On the way out, he took a brief detour to collect the bourbon along with his glass. He poured some for Elena and then raised the bottle in a toast. "Here's to a future with the woman I love. May it be compulsion free and last for an eternity."

"He's a poet, too." Elena smiled and clinked her glass against the bottle Damon held. "To the future."

Downing their drinks, they put the empty bottle on the kitchen counter with an IOU note stuck to it and left the apartment hand in hand to begin their future together, their 'forever.'


End file.
